Jaguar Pride (17 page)

In the living room, a low-watt bulb lit the room sufficiently for the man to see Huntley once he woke. At Huntley's approach, the man opened his eyes and Huntley quickly clasped his hand over the poacher's mouth. He had to question the man about the buyer who took possession of Kathy, or he would have just killed the poacher where he slept. The man looked up at Huntley with bleary eyes, but then his eyes widened as he saw the naked stranger peering down at him. He tried to get up off the couch, but Huntley's hand was on his shoulder, and he shook his head in warning.

“What…who…?” The man still looked half out of it, unable to shake off the effects of overdosing himself with liquor.

“Speak softly and answer me this—where is Pierre Beaufort?” Huntley asked, his voice hushed.

“Who the hell are you?” The man looked like he didn't believe Huntley could cause him bodily harm, naked and unarmed, as he glanced around the room to ensure no one else was there. Then he saw Melissa standing in her jaguar form, eyeing him. She showed off her teeth for good measure, causing her nose to wrinkle and her whiskers to bristle. “Holy shit!” He scrambled to get off the couch.

Huntley shoved him back onto the couch.

“Stay! Where can we reach Pierre Beaufort?” Huntley asked again, losing patience.

“Hell if I know,” the man said, not looking away from what he had to have figured was the greater threat to him—Melissa in her very growly jaguar form. “What the hell's going on?”

“If you don't know anything…” Huntley said, a threat in his voice.

“Phil Gorsman maybe knows. He's sleeping it off in that bedroom down the hall. Maybe just Jackson knows. He usually deals with the buyers.” Then the man made a fatal mistake. He dove for something under one of the sofa's cushions. He fell into the cushions, searching frantically for something, and came up with a gun in one hand. Despite trying to be quick about it, he was too drunk to manage and fumbled with the gun, nearly dropping it before Huntley seized the man's head, jerked it hard, and broke his neck. That was the problem with being inebriated. Slow reflexes were no match for a cat's quickness. The man slumped back onto the couch, and Huntley stalked in the direction of one of the other bedrooms.

In there, Huntley found Phil sprawled on the bed. His poison of choice was whiskey, and he had a half-empty bottle sitting on the floor next to the bed. Celebrating the capture of a bunch of jaguars? Huntley flipped on the light switch.

“Hey, Phil, remember me?” Huntley asked.

Phil opened his eyes. They grew saucer-sized and he tried to sit up, but when he saw that Huntley wasn't wearing any clothes and had no weapons on him, he grinned. “New look for FBI agents these days? Government running out of money again? Or maybe you think you'll scare a man into confession like that.” Then he slipped his hand under his spare pillow.

Huntley pinned him down, one arm tight against Phil's neck and his other hand gripping Phil's right wrist to keep him from getting hold of a weapon.

“Where's Pierre Beaufort? How can I reach him?”

“Jackson,” Phil choked out. “He's the only one who deals with him. If any of us did, he'd think we were trying to sell the cat behind his back. He's got another guy who can deal with the buyers from time to time when Jackson's on another job, but we don't even know the man's name.”

“So you don't know where this Pierre is or any way to contact him?”

Behind Phil, Melissa hopped onto the bed and showed off her wicked teeth.

Phil jerked his head around and stared at her, struggling to get free from Huntley. “Holy shit! How did she get loose?”

“She'll bite—hard—as soon as I tell her to.”

“What the hell's going on?”

“You captured the wrong cats this time. They bite back. One last time. Where's Pierre?”

“I…I don't know. I'd tell you if I knew.”

“Did you tell Jackson you shot and very nearly killed his sister?”

Phil's eyes bugged out again.

“Didn't think so.”

In his jaguar form, blood on his mouth, Avery loped into the room.

Phil's mouth gaped. “What the hell…” Then he said, “The bitch led you to me. She deserved what she got. If she'd done that to her own brother,
he
would have killed her!”

“So you're lying to him. How can I believe you're not lying to me?”

“Screw you.”

“Wrong answer. But I'll make it easy on you.” With killing precision, Huntley did the same to Phil as he'd done to the other two men, ending his miserable life. The whole while, Huntley recalled how Jackson's sister had nearly died because of this man and had been fortunate enough to get a second chance at life. But this sick bastard had been free to go right back to a life of crime. Not any longer.

After that, Huntley and Avery searched for clothing. They both found clean T-shirts and jeans and slipped them on. Then he searched for shoes, but only managed to locate a pair of flip-flops—not his usual style for a mission like this, but the guy's feet were so big that it would have been like wearing clown shoes. Avery managed to find a pair of one of the guys' tennis shoes that fit.

“Did you get anything from anyone?” Huntley asked as he saw Melissa come out of another room wearing a long T-shirt. The edge of a pair of black boxers could be seen at the bottom of the T-shirt.

“Nothing. Two men back there. But they had the same to say as the others. Jackson's the only one who knew. I was searching in a desk to see if I could find anything else,” Avery said.

“We'll grab their cell phones, report the stolen cats, seize one of their vehicles, and take off,” Huntley said.

“What about my wife?” Avery asked, jerking a cell phone out of a pair of men's trousers.

“Martin will have every available resource looking for her. And your cohorts may have been able to attach a GPS locator to the boat that brought us here. Although the boat might be locked up in a garage some distance from this location. I don't hear any nearby water source. Still, it's probably not too far away because it was beginning to get light when we landed and we arrived here not much later.”

Melissa had grabbed a phone and was staring at it.

Huntley searched for keys to one of the three vehicles parked out front and found another phone. “Avery, if you would, call the Whittaker brothers because hopefully they're nearby, depending on where we are.”

“Sure thing.” Avery tried to get hold of Luke and Jason, while Huntley was about to give up on looking for the car keys and just hot-wire one of the vehicles.

Melissa lifted the phone to her ear and said, “Martin, we're…” She hesitated, as if she didn't remember what she meant to say next.

Feeling bad for Melissa, Huntley located a set of car keys and called Martin on another phone, wrapping his arm around Melissa's shoulders and giving her a heartfelt hug. “Hey, boss, we're at the compound where Jackson was keeping the cats. We've taken care of Jackson's men, including that bastard Phil Gorsman. Jackson's gone, though. We're grabbing a vehicle and getting out of here.” He paused and said to Melissa, “If you'll hide the phone you're holding under some papers over there on the table, Martin can have our men locate the house using GPS.”

“Okay,” she said, and he watched her as she did what he asked.

Then he said to Martin, “We've got Avery, but Kathy was sold to a buyer named Pierre Beaufort. As soon as you get a fix on our location, let us know where to go. We need to find Kathy as soon as we can. Have you heard from our guy who's pretending to be the buyer?”

“Your brother wanted the job. So Everett said he's following the man who wanted the payment to your current location, but he's not Jackson.”

“Crap.”

“My sentiments. The man was planning to buy the two of you, but now he's waffling about the price. Said it would cost Everett twice as much.”

“Good thing my brother doesn't really need to pay for our release. Can you give him the kill order? Unless you think the man can tell us where this Pierre Beaufort is and that will lead us to Avery's wife.”

“Yes. I'll give the order.”

Huntley clicked the car keypad and the Jeep's lights flickered. “We're taking a Jeep.” Then he gave Martin the license number. Huntley noticed as soon as they walked outside the house that the ground was littered with glass and stones, and Melissa wasn't wearing any shoes. He said, “Hold on, Martin.”

Huntley pocketed the phone, lifted Melissa into his arms, and carried her to the Jeep. As soon as he set her in the backseat, she sprawled out to sleep.

Okay, so she really wasn't fully awake. Avery climbed into the front seat.

Huntley pulled the phone out and got behind the wheel, then said to Martin, “Once you find the location of this place, they've got an ocelot and margay caged up that need rescuing.”

“Got it. Is Melissa all right?”

“Drugged still. With her smaller size, they overdosed her.”

Martin cursed.

“The Whittaker brothers are ready to meet us and help get us out of here as soon as we learn where my wife is,” Avery said to Huntley. “Luke said they found the place where the boat was stored. They
had
tracked it with GPS.”

“Martin, did you hear that? We just need the coordinates for where we are now.”

“I've got agents on it now. I've got a man talking to Jason Whittaker, and we'll report the location of the boat once they're out of there.”

“All right. Road's bad. Gotta go.”

“Call you in a few minutes and let you know where you are and where you need to go.”

Then they signed off.

The road was muddy and chock-full of holes, with thick vegetation growing up right next to it. Occasional sightings of dark homes back off the road caught Huntley's attention.

As soon as they saw headlights coming in their direction, Avery said, “Turn off down that side road.”

Huntley turned off and drove toward a residence until the vehicle passed. “What if it's Jackson? We could take the bastard down. Learn where Pierre is.”

“We can ambush him down here if he follows us.”

The car turned off onto the same road, and Huntley thought one of two things: the driver
was
Jackson, recognized the Jeep, and wondered why one of his men would be taking a spin in it at this time of night when he was supposed to be watching the cats, or the driver of the vehicle was the owner of the house they were headed for.

If it was Jackson, they'd make their stand here and take him out. Huntley pulled over on the rutted road and stopped the Jeep.

“Want me to shift and take care of him?” Avery said.

Before Huntley could reply, someone shouted out the vehicle's window from behind, “It's me!”

“My brother, Everett,” Huntley hurried to say, thrilled to hear it was him and that he was fine. But Huntley had really hoped Jackson was coming for them. He'd hoped they could learn where Pierre Beaufort was and take Jackson out once and for all. He and Avery got out of the vehicle and headed back to the car parked behind them. Everett jumped out of his vehicle and gave Huntley a warm embrace.

“I had to make sure the Jeep was the one you stole and confirm it with the boss first. Where's Melissa?” Everett asked, sounding worried.

“Asleep in the backseat.”

“Is she okay?” Everett asked, his brow creased in a deep frown.

“Yeah, she'll be okay.”

“Good.” Everett shook Avery's hand. “Damn glad to see you.”

“Likewise,” Avery said.

“Grab Melissa, will you, Huntley? We'll take my car. The boss called me and told me what happened. The guy that was trying to sell the jaguars to me had a fatal heart attack—with my help. He didn't have any clue where Kathy's buyer is, or Jackson either. My mission was to pick the three of you up and haul ass out of here.” Everett was still talking while Huntley lifted Melissa out of the Jeep and carried her to Everett's rental car.

As he opened the back door for Huntley, Everett said to Avery, “Your cubs are now back home safe and sound. They arrived a few hours ago.”

“Thank God for that. Now we just need to get my wife home,” Avery said.

“Totally agree with that,” Huntley said.

“As soon as I verified that you were driving the Jeep, Martin notified the police,” Everett said, as Huntley got into the backseat with Melissa, and Avery climbed into the front seat. “We want to be as far away from there as possible.”

“That's for damn sure,” Huntley said. Melissa rested her head in his lap. “Are you all right?” He stroked her arm, wishing this was all over with and they could take a real vacation together.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice soft with sleep. “Can't kick the way the drug is making me so drowsy.”

“No problem, honey. Just sleep. It'll wear off.” Huntley saw his brother glance at the rearview mirror. Yeah, Huntley
was
dating the she-cat. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

“Thanks so much for all your help,” Avery said.

“You would have done it for any of us. Hell, Everett,” Huntley said to his brother, “I thought you were working a cold case. Martin didn't tell me you were down here trying to buy Melissa and me from that scum, Jackson.”

“I applied for the job as soon as I learned my fool brother was trying to martyr himself along with his new girlfriend.”

Huntley shook his head. “I don't see myself as the martyr type.” Melissa appeared to be asleep, but when Everett made the comment about her being Huntley's new girlfriend, she slid her hand lightly over Huntley's leg. He hoped that meant she agreed with him. He smiled down at her.

“Not a martyr, but bait then. Dad would have had me drawn and quartered if I hadn't come down here to help free you. Not that I needed the extra push. As soon as Tammy and her mate heard, they wanted to come down here too. Boss said no. They're still training those teens and that's their priority. But yeah, as soon as Martin told everyone in the branch that you and Melissa needed help finding a couple who had been captured and how you were left to cub-sit, everyone who wasn't on an urgent mission dropped everything and started trying to solve this case.” Everett paused, then said, “How did cub-sitting work out, by the way?”